


A Demon and an Angel at Baker Street

by notjustmom



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, M/M, Parentlock, Post Season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 00:43:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21262307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: If you squint, this is from the Box of 64 verse...





	A Demon and an Angel at Baker Street

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, my sweet friend, this became more of a Halloween fic, but definitely written with you in mind. <3 <3 <3 Much love on your special day! xoxox

“John…"

“Hmm?” 

“You don’t think it’s too… too?”

John looked up from his book and barely managed to stifle a helpless moan at Sherlock’s image in the full length mirror. To be honest, Sherlock’s costume of mostly black, including a pair of skinny jeans, which John wasn’t exactly sure how they would come off again without the use of a sharp pair of scissors, wasn’t much of a departure from his everyday wear, but with the addition of the golden contact lenses, shades and the red wig -

(it had only taken reminding him once of that one experiment years ago in which his raven locks had turned an acid green, and the long months it had taken for his hair to completely recover, to change his mind about attempting to dye his hair bright red)

\- he nearly out-Crowleyed Crowley.

Neither of them had read Good Omens when it had first been published, but once they watched the series after Rosie was safely asleep in one sitting, they became a bit, well, ‘obsessed’ was the word Molly had used on more than one occasion, especially once Sherlock had found sunglasses that made him look a bit too much like the gentle demon. And, naturally, like Crowley, Sherlock resisted being thought of as kind even by those nearest and dearest, so it made perfect sense for him to take on the role for the first Halloween Rosie would actually remember with any kind of clarity.

As for John…?  
Since they had settled into their version of domestic bliss, he had put on a bit of weight as they weren’t taking on as many cases as they once had, and rarely any that would require dashing over rooftops, as they had Rosie to consider these days. Molly had guessed it was about ten pounds, though in actuality, it was closer to eleven and a half. Of course, Sherlock (not so secretly) loved and appreciated that John finally had a healthy pudge around his middle. To him, it signaled that he was no longer worried about keeping in shape on the off chance that he should he need to seek out another partner on the off-chance that Sherlock did another disappearing act. He knew it was ridiculous, but still, it reassured him greatly.

They had talked, of course they had, and there was no sign of anyone going anywhere anytime soon, but seeing John pad around the flat as if he truly belonged there in his bathrobe, time-weathered Army shirt and the red silk boxers from Valentine’s Day did something odd to Sherlock’s brain. Not to mention John’s hair that had long grown past the swoop and into something altogether wilder, after a bit of styling, did have a resemblance to the bookselling angel, especially with the recent addition of reading specs.

Naturally, it was Rosie who made the suggestion, one morning over toast with strawberry jam and her milky tea weeks before the big event. “Demon and angel.”

John had peered over the top of the newspaper he still insisted on purchasing in spite of the current state of the world and blinked curiously at his daughter. “Say again, Rosie?”

“Fer tricks n treats, you be the angel and Da will be Crawley.” She shrugged nonchalantly and went back to sipping at her tea.

Sherlock had nearly choked on his own tea, but recovered, then pointed out the now well-read and dog-eared book that had been left on the kitchen table to John. “And Ro - what will you dress up as?”

“A rubber duck, o’viously.”

Sherlock had snorted, then walked over to her and pressed a kiss into her blonde curls, eliciting a squeal from the four and a half year old, and grinned at John as he muttered, “obviously.”

John dropped his book on the bed, then made his way over to where Sherlock still scowled uncertainly at himself in the mirror and shook his head. “No, I don’t think it’s too much… my sweet demon.”

Sherlock glared at him over the dark glasses, but couldn’t help from grinning as John removed them and kissed the nose crinkle that he personally had always thought adorable, but would never say that out loud for fear of causing a truly world-ending apocalypse.


End file.
